What are Dandelions?

"Dead Flowers" - Miranda Lambert

I feel like the flowers in this vase
He just brought ’em home one day
Ain’t they beautiful he said
They been here in the kitchen
And the waters turnin’ gray
They’re sittin’ in the vase but now they’re dead

Dead flowers

I feel like this long string of lights
They lit up our whole house on Christmas Day
But now it’s January and now the bulbs are all burned out
But still they hang, like dead flowers

He ain’t feeling anything
My love, my hurt, or the sting of this rain
I’m living in a hurricane
All he can say is man ain’t it such a nice day

I feel like that small string of lights
You said we won’t go far but we’re still rollin’
I look in the rear view and I see dead flowers in the yard
And that string of lights they ain’t glowin’
Lyrics are provided by Geniusbeauty.com

Like dead flowers
Like dead flowers

He ain’t feeling anything
My love, my hurt, or the sting of this rain
I’m driving through a hurricane
All he can say is man ain’t it such a nice day
Hey, hey, I guess we’ll just go to waste
Like dead flowers

Like dead flowers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yej7_IcACB0

Why we say 'we do'...

(post I wrote in November)

Today, during my lunch break, I passed an elderly man in the park. He and I were both crunching through the leaves, admiring the hundreds of flags up everywhere. As he passed, he said, "Beautiful, aren't they?" and I said, "Yes." Of course. With the sun behind them, the fall leaves around them, and children running around beneath them, they were breathtaking. He smiled, gave a lingering glance at me, and contined on his way...a few moments later, I saw him meet his wife on the sidewalk, and they walked on through the park hand-in-hand. I pondered this...then become lost in thought on the whole thing. Then, had to finally write down the deep reflection I'd had on age...and companionship. I thought I'd share, because a little bit of insight, from any age, can usually only do good...

Ponderings...

When you are young, you think everyone around you is interested in what you think, what you say, what you do, how you look, where you go, etc.
And in most cases, because you are at the peak of your vitality and potential, they do.
They call you beautiful. They call you wise beyond your years. They praise your talents and achievements. They admire your energy and abilities.

But a strange things happens as the years of your life crawl by, etching lines on your face and patience on your heart:
you don't matter as much to other people anymore.
As harsh as it is to say it, it's true.

Your beauty has been worn out and stretched with time.
Your wisdom is no longer impressive, but expected.
There is little left to achieve, save contentedness.
And life has made you tired, and limited in the things you are now able to do.
At this place in your journey, you will begin to be interested in the young ones that surround you...
what they think, what they say, what they do,
how they look, where they go, etc.

And they will tell you all, eagerly, excitedly,
their hearts so full of youth
that they can't even see the faint ember of youth's existence
struggling out from behind your eyes.

This is why we choose a companion.

This is why we need another human being at our side,
who has seen a similar amount of sunsets and sunrises...
heartaches and happiness...
successes and failures...
greetings and farewells,
and can understand and appreciate the journey we've been through
in a way more profound than anyone else can.

Because when everyone else ceases to care,
or cares...but simply cares less,
the companion can be there
to squeeze your hand with empathy and say,
"I do..."

When everyone else cease to look,
or looks....but simply sees nothing to admire,
the companion can be there
to touch your cheek with appreciation and say,
"I do..."

When everyone else ceases to consider where you're going,
or considers...but knows that wherever it is...it's not far,
the companion can be there
to wipe away a tear as they say,
"I do..."
Because they care very much where you go.
And worry every day about when you will do so.

They look at wrinkles, and see laughter.
They look at frail limbs, and see adventures.
They look at gray hair, and see trials overcome.
They look at tired eyes, and see love.

And that is why, during youth,
we say "I do."

Because at the end, when youth has left us alone with nothing and no-one except that companion,
those subsequent "I do"s mean more than anything that ever came before it.

Rough Drafts

It felt like taking off my own skin
And then walking around with every delicate,
Tender and fragile inch of what was inside,
Exposed to the elements,
Nothing left to hold me in.
Nothing to ever fit like that, that well, again.

It felt like someone pried open the soft shell around my heart
Just enough to that the thick, liquid contents
Could seep out slowly, slowly…
Weighing down my insides and drowning the small,
Fluttering wings that used to alight below it,
And I have no way to reach in and seal the gap.

It felt like a thick scab removed gradually
So that each separate cell ripping from the wound
Made its own sharp outcry,
As I let you go while still holding you in my arms
Cried tears for you with the smile still warm on my lips
Said goodbye as I walk toward you, hands outstretched.

And I’m finding holes in everything.
Cracks in the ground I walk on…
Gaps in the walls around me…
Pockets of empty space in midair,
And each time I find them, I shake my head miserably
Because I hadn’t even known you were in all those spaces
Until you weren’t anymore.

And the drafts are bitter cold.